The Missing Chapter
by Suswoman
Summary: When I read Book 7, I always felt there was a chapter missing between the final chapter and the Epilogue. Never were we given a chance to mourn or wind down from the story before we were thrust into the future. This is my version of the missing chapter


THE MISSING CHAPTER

_THE MISSING CHAPTER_

Harry was flying. He was not on a broom or riding any sort of winged creature, but instead his body stretched luxuriously through the air on its own, bursting forward with a speed he had never before even imagined. With absolute abandon he raced, his arms sometimes flung wide out to his sides, sometimes reaching out in front of him. The wind whipped through his hair and pummeled his skin, and his nerve endings were raw and alive with exhilaration. He laughed out loud and spun his body as he flew, tumbling through the air with glee…

A loud snort emanating from behind Ron's bed hangings suddenly jolted Harry awake. He lay back on his pillow and closed his eyes again, trying to recapture the feeling of the dream. It was the same one he'd had for three nights now, and as he lay in bed trying to grasp that euphoria, the carefree giddiness, he remembered it was futile. Each other morning he had attempted the same, and each morning the daunting weight of reality had snuffed out the feeling like a smoking candle. He opened his eyes again and sat up.

The dormitory was already well-lit with mid-morning sunlight, and Harry saw that the rest of the beds, except for Ron's, stood empty. He felt a twinge of guilt for remaining in bed so long on such an important day, yet he still felt exhausted. The past two days since the final battle had been extremely busy. A quickly conducted meeting between the Hogwarts Board of Governors, the acting Minister of Magic, and the proprietors of Hogsmeade had resulted in an offer to the families of the deceased: if they wished, Hogwarts would provide a mass burial site on the grounds, and the ministry would conduct a memorial service honoring the fallen. All of the families had readily agreed, and Harry, Ron and Hermione, as well as the remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix, had insisted on staying to help in the preparations.

Harry looked around the room. The suit of armor Ron had been attempting to reassemble the night before lay abandoned at the foot of his bed like a twisted metal jigsaw puzzle. Harry had to give Ron a lot of credit—he and Hermione had rallied the students and made it their mission to repair as much of the castle as magic would allow. Many of the walls, doors and ceilings that had been victims of mislaid spells had been returned to their original state, although large sections of the castle where the brunt of the fiercest battles had occurred were a more difficult matter and would require a more extensive rebuilding. Grawp, Harry recalled with a smile, had actually proven quite helpful in this regard, fetching large boulders from the nearby hills and stuffing them into the gaps that were too large for a quick fix. The dedicated crew of young witches and wizards had scoured the castle, collecting mounds of dented armor, smashed trophies, broken furniture pieces, crystal ball fragments, kitchen utensils, and various other makeshift weapons that had been engaged in the battle and had labored tirelessly to sort, repair and replace the objects, helped tremendously by the house elves' intimate knowledge of the castle's nooks and crannies. Professor Sprout and Neville had done what they could to retrieve cuttings from the now trampled magical plants that had proven so effective against their enemies, and rows of little seedling pots now lined the greenhouse shelves.

Harry stretched, climbed out of bed, and walked over to the window. A brilliantly blue June sky enveloped the grounds, which were already teaming with activity. Harry squinted into the brightness and could just make out the form of Hagrid at the far gates ushering visitors past the winged boars and guiding them toward the castle. Scores of small groups dotted the lawn, greeting each other with hugs and tears and slowly making their way through the front doors. Harry's gaze followed another crowd of parents and students gathered at a large cluster of tents which had been erected in the fields once occupied by the Tri-Wizard Tournament's hedge maze. The tiny village of Hogsmeade was already overflowing with ministry personnel and reporters, and the tent village had grown rapidly over the past two days to accommodate traveling families. Hagrid had worked diligently with Percy, Mr. Weasley and other ministry officials to prepare the grounds for the massive crowds expected to attend the service, and even the Hogwarts Express was now making twice-daily trips so that those with small children could also attend.

Harry's eyes now traveled toward the Quidditch pitch, once the source of his fondest memories at Hogwarts. The pitch had been noticeably enlarged to accommodate the enormous gathering of mourners in the seating area, its hoops removed and its playing field now covered by 58 pedestals that would soon hold as many caskets. More subdued, black mourning banners had temporarily replaced its usually festive flags depicting the Hogwarts houses. A large section of land near the lake had also been cleared to accommodate the burial site for the battle's dead, along with a monument to the fallen heroes. Harry wondered now what the monument would be; Kingsley initially had asked his opinion, but Harry had found it too painful to think about and declined to offer any advice.

Harry had attempted on each day to manually help out with each of these endeavors. His need to participate drove him vigorously through each day; for although he had fulfilled the prophecy in the end, he couldn't escape the feeling that he could somehow have prevented the loss of so many people. If he'd only figured it out sooner, if he had trusted his instincts about a Horcrux being at Hogwarts months ago, if he had not wasted so much time obsessing about Hallows, if he had given himself up to Voldemort when he first threatened the castle, his friends might still be alive. Thoughts such as these propelled him into action, determined to in some way make it up to the 58 people who laid down their lives for…him. However, just as Harry would dive into a project, he found himself bombarded again with congratulatory hugs and tearful thank-yous from new groups of people just arriving. Their heartfelt gratitude and looks of awe in his presence would remind him for a moment that there indeed should also be cause for celebration, but it was also overwhelming, and he found himself fleeing soon afterwards and seeking out a new task. The cycle would continue throughout each day, and Harry found himself careening between such a wide array of emotions that he fell into bed each night utterly exhausted and aching for relief.

Ron stirred again from the adjacent bed, rousing Harry out of his reverie. Today was the day to finally say goodbye and put this all behind him as best he could. _May as well get on with it_, he decided. Harry moved away from the window and shook Ron fully awake. He dressed in his best robes, while Ron grunted a "G'mornin'" and did the same.

Hermione was waiting at the bottom of the dormitory steps.

"Finally!" she breathed, rushing forward to greet them with a quick hug for Harry and a kiss on the cheek for Ron. Harry smiled to himself at this new development. He supposed that including him in a more "hands-on" greeting made Hermione feel less awkward than just singling out Ron. Since the danger had passed, it had been a source of amusement for him to watch his best friends try to re-establish the intimacy that they had explored for such a brief moment during the battle. It was apparent that neither wanted to let that invisible wall go up again, and he had occasionally come upon them near secret passageway entrances, looking breathless and a bit pink. Although no one else seemed to have noticed anything yet, he could see subtle changes in their general demeanor towards each other, and the bickering that usually plagued their every conversation seemed to have come to an end, at least for the moment.

_At least they're not snogging in our bedroom yet,_ he thought to himself. He made a mental note to be sure and make a hefty amount of noise when climbing the dormitory steps from now on.

"Hundreds of people have arrived already," began Hermione, as they climbed out of the portrait hole and headed toward the Great Hall for breakfast. She stopped suddenly.

"Harry, do you have your invisibility cloak?" she asked. "There are tons of reporters downstairs already, and I can't think of any other way of getting past them without it."

"Got it," replied Harry, tapping on the slight bulge in his robe pocket. He had not yet broken himself of the habit of carrying it everywhere, and it had become quite useful in evading nosey reporters and photographers. Correspondents from every major wizarding news service had begun arriving in Hogsmeade from the moment that word of the battle had begun to spread, and every single one of them was clamoring for a private conversation with Harry. Newly appointed Headmistress Minerva McGonagall had shielded Harry as best she could by banning all media from the school grounds until the day of the service, but with all of the deliveries of supplies being made and volunteers coming in and out regularly, many of the sneakier lot had found ample ways of getting in. Kreacher had chased one balding man through the kitchens with a butcher knife after finding him crouched within a mead barrel. Even Peeves had done his part by regularly checking the castle's suits of armor for hidden intruders and whacking them repeatedly in the head with a shield until they fled the grounds.

Harry pulled the cloak over himself and followed Ron and Hermione into the Great Hall. It was absolutely packed with people, every house table filled to capacity with students and their families. Extra smaller tables had been set up in most other available spaces to accommodate guests, and Harry recognized a number of members of the Wizengamot, along with members of the Order and many of the shopkeepers from Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley. A corner of the Hall seemed to be designated for the press and assorted cameras, although it was clear that reporters themselves were roaming everywhere throughout the room. A newly freed Stan Shunpike was surrounded by a group of them, positively glowing as he recounted his days in Azkaban.

"It woz terrible, o'course, but I always knew 'Arry Potter would get me out. I know 'im personally, y' know? 'Choo ever 'ear about the time me & Ern rescued 'im after he got kicked outta 'is 'ouse?…"

Harry, Ron & Hermione forced their way through the crowd toward the Gryffindor table. There was no place to sit, but they spotted the rest of the Weasley clan picking at eggs and bacon and stood beside them. Hermione reached over Percy for a stack of toast and snuck a few pieces under the cloak for Harry.

"Where's Harry?" Ginny inquired, looking quizzically at Ron and Hermione.

"I'm right here," Harry whispered, gently squeezing her elbow through the cloak as Hermione discreetly spread the word to the rest of the family to prevent further questioning. Harry continued to talk quietly into Ginny's ear, although the noise inside the Hall was so great that there was no real threat of being overheard.

"I'm sorry, but I didn't want to face all of the questions until after the ceremony," he explained. "How are you doing?"

"I'm okay, " Ginny replied, "but I wish I could do something for Mum and George."

Mrs. Weasley and her son were sitting solemnly together. His hand covered hers, while silent tears welled in her eyes.

Ginny's brow wrinkled with concern. "I'm not sure how they'll get through today," she worried.

"They'll have you and Ron and the rest of the family giving them tons of love and support," Harry replied, reaching from under the cloak to lightly stroke her arm. The previous days had been so packed with activity that Harry had found no opportunity to talk much with Ginny, and certainly had had no time alone with her. Most of the Order and many of the students' parents were staying in the empty beds belonging to the underage students who had been evacuated, which meant that the common room was rarely empty enough to provide any privacy. After spending the entire school year apart Harry was unsure where he stood in Ginny's heart, but he had guessed from a number of lingering looks across rooms and shy mutual smiles that there was still hope she shared his feelings.

"Will I see you after?" he asked quietly.

"Of course," she answered, squeezing his hand in return.

A few minutes later Professor McGonagall made an announcement encouraging everyone to head to the grounds. The Weasley family rose slowly and began to follow the crowd filing out. Just as they cleared the doors to the Great Hall, two reporters caught up to Ron and Hermione and elbowed their way in front of them, blocking their path.

"Where's Harry Potter?" they demanded, attempting an authoritative tone, but only succeeding in looking a bit desperate.

"In the loo on the 7th floor," shot Ron. "Better hurry, though—just think of all the great photo opportunities."

"Ron, _really_!" chided Hermione, as she dragged him into the entrance hall and through the doors to the grounds. Harry followed, unseen and without speaking, but couldn't suppress a grin as he glanced behind him to see the two reporters sneaking up the marble staircase.

Considering the amount of people assembled, it took seemingly little time for everyone to take their seats in the Quidditch pitch. Ron saved a seat next to him while Harry waited, still cloaked, next to an out-of-the-way pillar. The 58 pedestals were now holding individual caskets. Each was different in style according to the families' wishes and had a single large purple orchid atop it, along with a photo of its occupant. The scene was jarring—an overwhelming amount of sedentary boxes juxtaposed with the frantic movements of each smiling, waving photograph.

Just as Kingsley Shacklebolt entered the pitch and the murmurs of the crowd began to dissipate, Harry finally removed his cloak and trotted in to take his seat with the Weasley family and Hermione. He heard a faint but distinct "There he is!" as he sat, causing others around him to take notice and whisper to their neighbors. Mrs. Weasley was already crying silently, and the rest of the family sat stoically, waiting.

Kingsley raised his wand to his throat and began to speak.

"We are drawn here together this morning—students, teachers, friends, family, civic leaders, and all manner of witches and wizards in our vast community—for both the mightiest of celebrations, and the deepest mourning. It is difficult, indeed, to know exactly how to feel on this day; whether to wallow in despair at the loss of so many of our loved ones, or to send forth trumpets to herald their victory. The immeasurable grief we all feel here today will reverberate for years to come as we seek to somehow, _somehow_ move on in life without them. But the pain of loss must also be measured against the sheer, unqualified, insurmountable _good_ that came from their sacrifice. For through these unbelievably brave warriors, these faithful and loyal friends to the end, came the triumph of Good over the darkest Evil. Because they were willing to give everything they had, the future of our world is once again bright.

So I believe that today we need to feel both the heartache and the joy, the darkness and the light. Let us celebrate the lives of these 58 courageous souls, and offer them our resounding gratitude."

Kingsley paused for a moment, then nodded toward Professor McGonagall. The new Headmistress, looking uncharacteristically emotional and clutching a handkerchief, took a deep breath and began to speak of the heroism and unfaltering bravery shown by all of the students and faculty who had volunteered to fight that night. She recounted examples of their ingenuity in creating unique weaponry and their willingness to dive into battle as they saw their friends in need. As she recounted a particular story about Fred showing her secret passages even she hadn't yet discovered, Harry heard Mrs. Weasley wail softly. Ginny put an arm around her and lay her head on her mother's shoulder.

"I have never been prouder of my students than I was that night, witnessing their ability to overcome their fear and dedicate themselves completely to doing what was right. I loved them all, and I will greatly miss knowing what wonderful adults they would have become." Professor McGonagal concluded with a watery sniff, and sat down.

Similar speeches were given by Mr. Weasley on behalf of the fallen members of the Order of the Phoenix and Aberforth regarding the citizens of Hogsmeade who had perished. Harry felt buffeted back and forth as he listened, in one moment smiling as he recalled cherished memories and in another moment devastated by their loss. He noticed Hermione going through similar emotions, as she seemed to sometimes be laughing and crying simultaneously.

Kingsley then stood again and walked to the pedestal nearest him. He looked at the photo on top, which depicted a boy practically leaping with enthusiasm at having his picture taken. Kingsley smiled, and announced "_COLIN CREEVEY_."

For a moment nothing happened, then suddenly the casket was engulfed in a shower of golden sparks and quickly disappeared as a gust of wind breezed by all in attendance. A single white dove emerged from where the casket had lain and flew straight up into the sky so quickly that within seconds it could no longer be seen.

Kingsley continued along the line of caskets, reading each name, sending each casket off to its final resting place. The names began to blur as Harry listened, trying to keep his composure.

"_FRED WEASLEY."_

Each name felt to Harry like a stab into his heart, and the sheer numbers of the victims took his breath away. It seemed to go on and on—_how could there be that many?, _he thought.

"_REMUS LUPIN."_

"_NYMPHADORA TONKS LUPIN."_

Harry could stand it no longer.

Barely registering the fact that a hundred cameras were taking photographs of his every move, Harry cried. For the first time since the battle had ended, he allowed the tears to fall freely. His body shook, and he did not try to control it. He let go of everything that had built up inside him, put his face into his hands, and sobbed for the people he loved, the people he had lost. He let the looks of their faces and the sounds of their laughs invade his memories. And as he let the emotion overtake him, he grieved not only for the 58 celebrated today, but for all those he had lost to Lord Voldemort—_ his dad, his mum, Cedric, Sirius, Hedwig, Mad-Eye, Dobby, Dumbledore --_and he wept until he was exhausted and panting for breath.

He was dimly aware that Ron and Hermione had both rested their hands on his back. As he sat back up and wiped his face with the back of his hands, he was surprised to find that he was able to offer them a brief, but truly genuine, smile. He turned his attention back to the ceremony to find that all of the caskets were now gone, and Kingsley was unveiling a new statue dedicated to the fallen that would reside at the gravesite as a memorial to their sacrifice. A copy of the statue would also become the new centerpiece of the Ministry of Magic's entrance hall.

The statue was similar in style to the one Harry had seen when he visited the Ministry of Magic for the first time in his fifth year at Hogwarts. It was quite large and seemed to be made of a dark bronze, depicting a circle of magical beings all reaching upward equally in a united quest. Harry could make out a wizard, a centaur, a giant, a goblin, a werewolf, a smallish witch that looked like it was holding something…was it a book? _It must be a student,_ he thought. Another, smaller creature was next it, but he couldn't quite see from that his angle.

"Look, there's a house elf, too!" whispered Hermione, pointing excitedly.

The crowd applauded appreciatively. As they watched, a tiny witch did a series of complicated waves of her wand, and the statue melted away. Harry squinted toward the mass gravesite in the distance and saw the statue reappear, glinting in the sunlight. Pride welled up in Harry as he pictured some future 11-year-old wizard making a pilgrimage down to the side of the lake to stare reverently at the site and wonder at the battle that saved their world.

Kingsley was now thanking the mourners and giving them instructions to head back to the Great Hall for luncheon.

"As Albus Dumbledore once said to me," he concluded, "I've never encountered a treacle tart that didn't manage to lift my spirits just a wee bit…"

People were now rising and making their way out of the seating area. George took Mrs. Weasley's arm on one side while Mr. Weasley grasped the other, steering her toward the castle. She leaned heavily on them in turn, but seemed to be breathing more steadily now. Bill and Fleur followed arm in arm, with Percy & Charlie not far behind. As Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny turned to join the family, they found their way suddenly blocked by a knot of reporters frantically snapping photos of Harry and shouting out questions.

"Can you tell us what happened at the battle, Harry?

"How did you know how to defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"

"Are you using the Elder wand now, Harry? How does it feel?

"What's next for you, Harry? Will you run for Minister of Magic?"

Harry, Ron and Hermione had been discussing this inevitable bombardment of questions for a couple of days and had preplanned Harry's response. He faced the crowd of reporters and said loudly, "I have a statement to make."

Silence immediately fell over the area, all eyes anxiously fixed on Harry.

"I have decided to tell my story to one exclusive entity. Throughout the entire wizarding struggle against Lord Voldemort…" he felt a shudder go through the audience, still not able to hear the name without fear, "there is only one media source that never faltered in trying to get out the truth to our community. One single group that never succumbed to pressure from Death Eaters or coddled the Ministry or told the public only what it wanted to hear. Anyone who wants to know what I did during the last year and what happened during the Battle of Hogwarts should listen to the final wireless broadcast of Potterwatch tonight at 8 o'clock. No password required this time. Get your stories from that. That's all I have to say."

Harry forced his way through the stunned group and marched off toward the lake, leaving them quickly behind. Ron, Hermione and Ginny soon caught up, beaming.

"That was brilliant, mate," smiled Ron, slapping a hand on Harry's back. "You should have seen them--they look like they'd just swallowed an infusion of gurdy root."

"And I think you've given out the information in plenty of time for them to report it this afternoon and get a big audience for Potterwatch tonight," agreed Hermione. "Lee will be so pleased."

Lee Jordan had been thrilled with the idea of doing one more broadcast when Hermione had approached him with the plan, but had expressed concern that perhaps no one would be listening for it anymore.

Before long the quartet found themselves at the foot of the newly erected statue marking the entrance to the gravesite. They stared at the rows of identical markers, each a pearly white obelisk engraved with a name and the words "Defender and Friend." They walked carefully amongst the stones, stopping occasionally to read a name or remove a stray leaf that had landed there. Ginny plopped down on the grass near Fred's marker, and the other three followed suit. They sat contentedly for awhile in a comfortable silence, each wrapped up in his own thoughts and feelings.

It was peaceful, and a mild breeze was blowing. The sun was directly overhead now and reflected off of the lake, creating a dazzling array of diamond-like patterns. As Harry stared out at the water, he felt a shadow pass overhead and heard a soft, low, familiar whistle. He looked around for its source. Near the edge of the lake, about fifty meters away, he saw the stark white tomb of Albus Dumbledore, its top now bathed in bright red and gold plumage.

"Fawkes."

He was strangely unsurprised to see the phoenix. Now that it had arrived, however, he felt as if he'd been expecting it. He stood, and Fawkes took flight, landing heavily on Harry's outstretched arm. He looked into its eyes and spoke quietly to the noble bird.

"It's wonderful to see you here. Hogwarts has missed you."

Fawkes gave another deep whistle, its stunning sleek feathers ruffling in the breeze. The bird turned its head again toward Dumbledore's tomb, and Harry's gaze followed.

"You miss him," he spoke to the phoenix. "Me, too."

Fawkes now turned to look directly into Harry's eyes. With a sudden flourish, the phoenix flew closely over Harry, flying in a tight circle three times around his head, then revolving around Harry's torso in a spiral motion down his body. A single tail feather released itself from the bird and floated upward, hovering upright in front of Harry's chest. Harry reached out to take the feather, and when the bird rose again to meet Harry's eyes, he understood at once. Harry nodded his head in appreciation and awe, and Fawkes trumpeted loudly, soaring into the air toward the castle and disappearing through the Gryffindor tower window into Harry's dormitory.

"Wow." Hermione appeared at Harry's side, sounding astonished. "Do you realize what that ritual meant? I've read about this, Harry, and I think he just pledged you his loyalty!"

"Hey!" protested Ron. "How come he gets a phoenix and I'm still stuck with bloody Pig?"

Ginny laughed. "Don't worry, Ron. Maybe Fawkes will eat Pigwidgeon and then you can get a nice blast-ended screwt."

As everyone chuckled amiably, Ginny stood and brushed the dirt off of her robes.

"I supposed we'd better get back to the castle," she sighed. "Mum will be worried."

Ron and Hermione joined Ginny and Harry, and the group wound their way back through the memorial site. As they reached the statue again, the four turned to take one last look.

Ginny's voice quavered, and was barely audible. "It's so hard to leave Fred here. I mean, it's so beautiful, but it's somehow just not…_funny_ enough for him, is it?" A single tear ran down her cheek. "How is he going to stand the quiet?"

Harry took Ginny's shoulders and turned her to face him. "You're going to write down every joke you hear over the summer and come back here weekly next term to tell them all to Fred," he assured her, pulling her close to him. He held her tightly and they rocked slightly back and forth. He noticed that Ron and Hermione had drifted away a bit and were also talking quietly, Ron's face contorted in grief. Harry watched as Hermione ever so gently cupped Ron's face in her hands and pulled him toward her in a very light, but lingering kiss of comfort.

Harry looked into Ginny's eyes, dark cinnamon and misty with emotion. His fears that she might blame him for her brother's death or that she had moved on with someone else now seemed thoroughly unfounded, the warmth of her gaze feeding his lonely heart. There was no need to worry anymore, and no need to rush—his future lay before him, unencumbered, with endless possibilities. He pressed his forehead onto Ginny's, feeling her breath upon his lips. They leaned on each other, eyes closed and fingers intertwined, completely content.

An enormous gasp shattered the air.

Mrs. Weasley was staring at the two embracing couples, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, with Mr. Weasley gaping behind her. Ron, Hermione, Harry and Ginny all spun around to face her, shocked at her sudden presence and terrified at her reaction. They waited on tenterhooks for the inevitable outrage.

"You…! How did…? With him…?! When…?"

And she burst into tears.

Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione stood rooted to the spot, staring at each other in despair. They had figured that their relationships would take some getting used to by the family, but they had not been expecting Mrs. Weasley to become emotionally distraught over it. And they certainly had never intended to spring it on her on a day like today, when she was already so raw.

Ginny was the first to try to remedy the situation. She moved forward timidly, eventually reaching her mother's side and patting her on the back. Mrs. Weasley was sobbing uncontrollably, barely able to breathe.

"Mum, we wanted to tell you before, but we were waiting for the right time…" she tried.

Her words seemed to have no effect. Ron stepped in and made another attempt.

"Really, Mum, it's going to be all right. It's not like we're dating Death Eaters or anything like that."

This earned Ron a sock in the arm from Ginny, followed by a significant eye roll from Hermione and a moan from Harry. Ron was just opening his mouth to defend his statements when his mother reached out and grabbed he and Ginny each around the neck in a strangling hug. She pulled them to her closely.

"Thank Merlin!" she gasped, her breath ragged. "You two together—and you two—Oh! With all of the horrible things that have happened…so many families ripped apart…we needed a little LOVE back in this world!" She cackled tearily. "Somehow you four got past all of the battles and the separations and the loss and were still able to find each other and look to the future. Oh, I just knew it would happen eventually," she paused for a breath and looked at them all warmly, "but it's _just_ what we need now to move forward, isn't it…?"

She bustled the four of them together into a giant circle and tried to hug all of them at once. When that didn't quite work she resorted to patting cheeks and ruffling hair and thumping on their backs with zeal. The stunned teenagers accepted these affections in silence, still wondering what had just happened. Finally Mrs. Weasley announced that it was time for them all to have lunch, spun on her heel, and ordered them to follow her to the castle.

Hermione and Ginny quickly caught up to her, and soon the three ladies were chatting conspiratorially with their heads together.

Ron leaned over to Harry as they walked at a distance behind. "I guess she's OK with it then, eh?"

"You think?" murmured Harry, relief and happiness engulfing him.

"You know, I've just noticed something," Harry remarked suddenly, in the middle of devouring a thick roast beef sandwich. "With all of the press here today, I haven't seen Rita Skeeter, or any stray beetles for that matter, all day long. You'd think she would _live_ for this kind of thing."

Hermione looked uncomfortable for a moment, then sighed heavily. She reached into her robes, pulled out a folded piece of paper, and handed it to Harry. Ron looked over Harry's shoulder with curiosity as Harry unfolded a clipping from _Witch Weekly_ that was headlined: NOTED JOURNALIST GORED. He read aloud:

"_Rita Skeeter, popular author of the controversial unauthorized biography __The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore __and frequent contributor to many wizarding news publications, was critically injured Monday as she trekked through the mountains of Albania. Local sources say Ms. Skeeter had been tailing noted witch fashion mogul Caractacus Puckle throughout the week, trying to discover the secret ingredient for his highly anticipated potion for creating temporary ringlets in human hair. Witnesses say Skeeter was secretly following Puckle into a forest clearing when she accidentally startled a grazing crumple-horned snorkack. Although normally a docile and elusive creature, the snorkack reared…"_

"No way!" Harry and Ron both yelled simultaneously, causing a number of heads to turn.

Ron looked in amazement down the Gryffindor table at Luna, who was sitting with Neville and Hannah Abbott and staring dreamily into her pudding. "Next thing you know I'll be getting a nargle for Christmas."

"Mr. Potter?" a voice from behind them enquired. Harry turned to face a stout, bespectacled wizard, eagerly thrusting his hand into Harry's in an enthusiastic handshake. Harry vaguely recognized the face, but couldn't for the life of him remember where he had seen him before.

"Eldred Worple," the wizard stated, as if this would clear up everything. Harry looked at him blankly.

"I was just wondering when we might be able to schedule our first interview for that biography we talked about last year," he went on, pulling a small calendar out of his robe pocket. "There's no question now that it absolutely _must_ be written, and I think we can all agree that you could be in no better hands than mine." He paused to rifle through a few pages. "Shall we begin on Tuesday, say, 10am in my office?"

Harry looked determinedly at Worple, a fleeting vision of last year's Slug Club Christmas party sliding into his memory. "As I think I stated before, I'm _definitely_ not interested."

"But my dear boy—"

"Oy!," a voice piped in from further down the table. Lee Jordan's annoyed face turned toward them. "The only person Harry's talking to about any of this is Potterwatch. Just let him be."

"I think I can help you," sounded another voice, which had been unusually quiet throughout the day. George had looked up from his untouched plate of food and was looking innocently at the pushy biographer. Worple took a step toward him, listening eagerly.

"Come on down to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, why don't you? I'm sure we've got something to cure that nasty drag rash you must get from hanging on celebrity coattails."

A shocked silence engulfed the table for a moment, followed by a loud snort of laughter from Ron. Soon everyone within earshot was laughing heartily, and someone chucked a balled up napkin that bounced off of George's nose. Harry turned, smirking, back toward the writer.

"Thanks anyway. Have a nice life."

Eldred Worple turned in a huff and walked hastily out of the Hall.

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly once the luncheon feast ended. Underage students who had returned to Hogwarts just for the ceremony were the first to depart, their parents eager to return home before nightfall. Ministry officials left with them, organizing the distribution of portkeys, loading the Hogwarts Express, and giving last-minute reminder lessons in side-along apparition. Once it became clear that Harry truly would not be making any more statements, the press also soon took their leave, eager to get their stories into the afternoon editions. Harry spent most of the afternoon enduring more congratulatory hugs and handshakes as people departed, but the weight of it seemed to feel less burdensome somehow. Even the more awkward encounter with The Creevey family went better than Harry could have hoped, and he was glad to be able to offer his condolences in person. Before long, Harry found himself in the Great Hall with few but those remaining at the castle for one final night.

He sat chatting lazily with Ginny, tired but feeling more calm than he had in a year, maybe even his entire life. He was enjoying listening to Ginny's stories of the past year at Hogwarts when she suddenly stiffened and put a hand over her mouth, looking at a spot over his shoulder. Harry instinctively whipped around and stood in front of Ginny, his hand thrust into his robe pocket for his wand, looking wildly around for the source of her fear.

Once again the similarity to Bellatrix made his pulse jump, but this time he recognized Andromeda Tonks more quickly and forced his facial expression into one of welcome. Realizing that Ginny had probably never met her before, he immediately made introductions and explained the family connection. Mrs. Tonks grimaced at the mention of her sister.

"I guess I'll have to dye my hair blonde if I don't want to be attacked everywhere I go," she said, chagrined. "I think I gave a dozen different people heart failure today just walking around."

Harry tried to offer her a comforting smile, but he was finding this encounter more difficult than any others yet today. This woman had lost everyone in her immediate family—her husband, her only child, her son-in-law; one diabolical sister dead and the other fearing incarceration. What could he possibly say to her to ease her pain?"

"Mrs. Tonks," he began, "I'm so sorry—"

"I know, Harry," she interrupted gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I'm not here for condolences now. I felt it was important for you to meet someone."

Harry watched curiously as she turned around and walked back a few yards to a large pram he had not noticed before. She lifted a small bundle wrapped in a blue blanket and returned to Harry, now smiling warmly.

"Harry, I'd like you to meet your godson, Teddy."

Before Harry could react, she placed the bundle in his arms and stepped back, beaming.

Harry looked down at the baby in wonder. Teddy was sleeping peacefully, his shock of lavender hair sticking straight up and a tiny fist jammed into his mouth. A sudden panic hit Harry as he realized he had never held a baby before and had no earthly idea if he was doing it right. Ginny seemed to sense him tensing, and she spoke quietly in his ear.

"You're doing fine—he won't break." She peeked over his shoulder and gave a little squeal. "Oooo—he's so cute!"

"Yeah," Harry replied, relaxing a little. He had thought of Teddy often in the last few days, of course, but the baby had never yet seemed quite real. Now here he was, warm flesh and blood lying in his arms, completely unaware of the tumultuous world into which he'd been born. Harry gazed into his face and felt a rush of affection—not the kind he felt for Ginny or his best friends, but a type he had never felt before. He wanted to shield Teddy from every possible harm, to protect him from anything in the world that could cause him any more pain or loss than he'd already endured, even without knowing it yet. Harry knew just what the boy would feel growing up without his parents, but he was determined that he would never, _ever_ experience a lack of love or support.

"Hello, Teddy," he murmured quietly. "I'm your godfather, Harry."

As if on cue, the baby opened his eyes wide and began to look around. When Teddy spotted Harry, he studied him for a moment, then let out a delighted shriek as his hair turned a distinctive green, exactly the color of Harry's eyes.

"My, my," chortled Mrs. Tonks. "It looks like you two are going to get along just fine." Teddy responded with a loud belch. "Well, I know you've still got a long night ahead of you, and I need to get Teddy to bed."

She gently lifted the baby and returned him to his pram, then looked back over her shoulder at Harry.

"We'll be seeing you soon, I hope?"

"You can count on it," Harry replied, smiling broadly.

They gathered in the Gryffindor common room. Harry chose his favorite squashy armchair by the fire and sat, Ginny on the floor in front of him, leaning on his legs. Ron and Hermione were curled up together sharing a small sofa nearby. Mrs. Weasley had lost no time in telling everyone who would listen all about the new couples, and Harry was glad to have Ginny so nearby to help calm his nerves.

It was cozy and warm in the firelight, and Harry felt a pang of longing for his younger days at Hogwarts. Although they had been through a lifetime's worth of adventures since, it still felt like yesterday that he was walking through the portrait hole for the first time, staring in wonder at his incredible new home. The talks he and his best friends had had here, the secrets they'd shared, the plans they'd made, all right here in this room were memories he would cherish forever. It was unbelievable to think that this was the last time they would share this childhood treasure together. Where was the spell that would allow him to bottle this homey atmosphere and revisit it whenever he wanted? Perhaps he would speak to George about incorporating this setting into one of his Patented Daydream Charms…

He watched as the people he loved most, the people he considered his closest family and friends, filled the room. Mr. And Mrs. Weasley, Bill & Fleur, Charlie, and Percy all took places at the study tables, looking longingly around the room as if they, too, were fondly recalling their own years at Hogwarts. George and Lee Jordan each carried a large box of equipment and began unpacking, laughing together at a shared joke. Professor McGonagall rearranged pieces of furniture in the room to better accommodate guests, giving orders to a nearby Kreacher who carried a tray laden with sandwiches and drinks. Luna introduced her father to Neville and his grandmother, the latter of whom immediately launched into the story of her grandson's heroic slaying of Nagini. Kingsley Shacklebolt had returned from his ministry duties and was now chatting amiably with a portrait. Hagrid emerged from the boys' dormitory, barely squeezing down the staircase, declaring "Ay, that Fawkes is in perfect health. He's abou' halfway 'tween cycles now. I gave him some owl nuts fer now, but yeh'll be wantin' ter let him out ta hunt, o'course."

After a few minutes everyone was seated comfortably, and Harry felt it was the right time to mention a few things.

"Hey, everyone. I just wanted to thank all of you for staying here tonight and being here for the broadcast. I know it's been difficult having to wait to hear what happened, but having you all here means a lot."

"Harry, there is nowhere on Earth we'd rather be tonight," declared Mr. Weasley, and the small crowd heartily expressed their agreement.

"So, what's next for you, Harry?" asked Neville.

Harry looked blankly back at him. With all of the worry and activity over the last few days, he had honestly not given it a thought until this moment.

"Er, I really don't know," he stammered. "I suppose I'll have to go back to my house at Grimmauld Place, if it's still there. I haven't really started to plan anything yet."

"You'll do nothing of the sort!" erupted a voice from across the room. Mrs. Weasley looked at Harry indignantly. "You'll come home to the Burrow, where you belong--at least until you decide where you really want to go and what career you want to pursue. We are your family, and I won't have you moping around that wretched old house by yourself listening to that awful Mrs. Black scream obscenities at you all day. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Ma'am," replied Harry, blushing and grinning. Although he thought he might have earned a bit more autonomy by now, the overprotective mothering of Mrs. Weasley couldn't have been more welcome in his heart.

"Yeah, you'd better stick close to us for awhile, Harry," added Bill. "I don't know how long it's going to take me to calm down the goblins at Gringott's and convince them to give you access to your vault again, not to mention dropping the burglary charges. They're still pretty hot over the whole break-in, even if you did save the wizarding world and all." He winked at Harry.

"And I'd be happy to put in a good word for all three of you at the Ministry," offered Kingsley. "The Auror office has already declared that your 'life experience' could replace most of the N.E.W.T.s you all missed at Hogwarts this year."

"And Hermione," Mrs. Weasley added, "please do consider bringing your parents for a visit once you and Ron have retrieved them from Australia." Ron's head jerked up at the mention of his name, and he looked confused. "Yes, of course you're going with her, Ron," Mrs. Weasley continued. "I'm sure your folks will be reeling from all of the changes, and I'd bet my Celestina Warbuck collection that you won't properly tell them about all of your amazing accomplishments this year." Hermione blushed and nodded, but looked very pleased.

"And if you need a break from ze Burrow for awhile, I would like nuzzing more zan to 'ave more help over ze next few months," began Fleur, shyly. "Especially ze next _nine_ months…"

For a moment everyone looked puzzled, and then Mrs. Weasley let out an enormous "OH!!" and ran over to hug Fleur and Bill excitedly. Hermione and Ginny joined them, and the rest of the room's occupants hollered out shouts of congratulations to Bill and Fleur from across the room. The feeling in the common room was decidedly cheerful, and Harry felt elated to have something so happy to look forward to.

After the hubbub had died down and people had returned to their seats, Luna spoke up.

"I've been wondering," she inquired curiously, "What did you three miss most while you were in hiding all of that time?"

_Ginny's mouth_, Harry's mind immediately answered, but he thought better of announcing that to her six older brothers. Instead he gave Ginny a subtle squeeze with his knees and wisely answered out loud, "Mrs. Weasley's cooking." She beamed from across the room.

Ron gave a resounding, "Yes!" followed by "and Quidditch." Heads then turned to Hermione, who was thinking hard.

"I think it was probably basic contact with the outside world that I missed the most," she finally decided. "I don't think I really realized it until Ron found one of the Potterwatch episodes on the wireless, and none of us could get enough of it. It was like being home for awhile."

"Well said," agreed Harry. He glanced at his watch, which had been repaired easily by Professor Flitwick. "Well, I guess it's time. Shall we get this over with?"

Lee Jordan beckoned him toward a table laden with the strange-looking equipment.

"Just talk into this, Harry, and we'll be all set," he instructed, pointing to a device that looked like an unusually large pencil with a square top. Lee then signaled for silence in the room, cleared his throat, flipped a few switches, and began.

"Greetings, Potterwatch listeners. This is River, more commonly known in the wizarding community as Lee Jordan, and we're broadcasting tonight from the Gryffindor common room at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I'm able to give you my real name tonight, and to broadcast without fear for life or limb, because of the amazing talent and courage of one person: Mr. Harry Potter.

Unless you've been living in a hole for the last three days—and, quite frankly, many of you probably were—Harry Potter led a loyal legion of courageous warriors in the Battle of Hogwarts and ultimately defeated the Head Death-Eater, Lord Voldemort. Yes, listeners, we are so confident that he is really dead, that his reign is now so completely over, that we feel comfortable saying his actual name. Let's all do it together, shall we, without any fear whatsoever. Lord Voldemort. Again, louder this time—LORD VOLDEMORT. Very good. Let's learn in the future to never fear a _name_ again, shall we?" He paused, then became more solemn.

"58 incredibly brave souls were lost in the battle, and we gathered at Hogwarts today to celebrate their victory and mourn their loss. We're especially saddened to have lost two of our regular Potterwatch correspondents: Rapier, more commonly known as Fred Weasley, and Romulus, known as Remus Lupin. Both were dedicated to saving our world and getting the truth out to wizards and witches everywhere. They will be greatly missed, and if you don't mind, I'd like to take a quiet moment to remember them now."

The group bowed their heads, and waited in the silence until Lee continued.

"Thanks. Now, down to business. We are incredibly honored tonight to have Harry Potter with us to tell his story—where he and his friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, have been for the past year, the steps they took to weaken Lord Voldemort, and the unbelievable circumstances that led to the ultimate showdown between he and the Dark Lord at Hogwarts. No one here has heard it yet either, and this will be the one and only time he will tell it. I turn the broadcast over to him now, to be told in his own words. It's all yours, Harry."

Harry took a deep breath. He, Ron and Hermione had taken great pains to sketch out exactly what should and should not be told, and had even consulted Dumbledore's portrait to confirm their decisions. Harry would not mention the Hallows, although there was no getting around talking of the Elder wand. It had been the reason Voldemort was killed by his own curse, and hundreds of witnesses had heard his explanation of its powers to Voldemort already. He would have to tell the tale of the violent history of the Elder wand, without mentioning its connection to the other two Hallows, and say that he had destroyed it to avoid future power-seekers. This was only a partial lie, as leaving it where it was would essentially destroy its power in the end. The group had also decided not to speak of the Horcruxes by name, in hopes that the one time the word was mentioned in the Great Hall would be forgotten by those who listened. Harry did not want any potentially dark wizards to get any ideas from him on how to further their ambitions. He would instead speak of Dumbledore's brilliant long-term plan of collecting certain objects that would "weaken" Voldemort, resulting in his more vulnerable state during the final confrontation. He would be vague, and even admit that he was being so in order to ensure a safer future. He hoped that those truly loyal to the greater good would understand and forgive the holes left in the story.

He cleared his throat nervously, and began to speak. He faltered at first, starting sentences over a few times, and searching for the proper words. As he saw the supportive and enraptured faces of the people surrounding him, however, he relaxed and the words came more freely. He spoke of the prophecy; the visit to the cave; Dumbledore's crucial plan and the circumstances of his death; the escape from the wedding; the undercover ministry visit; the Christmas Eve in Godric's Hollow; the endless weeks and months with his devoted friends at their campsite, cut off from the world; their capture by the Snatchers and Dobby's heroic rescue; the break-in at Gringott's; his scar's connection to Voldemort's mind; the army preparing for the Hogwarts battle; the death confessions and true nature of Severus Snape; Harry's surrender to Voldemort; and his surprising, miraculous survival once again to face the Dark Lord in the final confrontation. His audience inside the common room reacted as one to each detail, gasping and cheering and weeping as they heard all that he and his friends had undertaken to end Voldemort's reign of terror.

When he had finished over an hour later, his throat dry and his head swimming with the details he had just relived, Harry sat back. He felt light, like a heavy cloak had just been removed from his back. Already it seemed as if the story he'd just told was a part of his past, as if it were another lifetime ago, a distant memory.

Suddenly, Harry couldn't wait to go home. He smiled broadly at everyone in the room that he loved so dearly and nodded to Lee, who saluted.

"Wow. And that's his story, friends of Potter. Those of you who remained true to Harry, and you know who you are, can rest assured that you put your faith in the right person. We sign off for good now, wishing all of you a worry-free future and a peaceful life, thanks to our namesake. This has been Potterwatch--thank you for listening, and good night."

16


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